The Other Side of the Bed
by Ayslinn
Summary: Two Pre-Sector Seven collapse vignettes.
1. Part I - Her Side

**Author's Note**: I'm not sure where exactly this came from, but it popped into my head this weekend when I myself was having trouble sleeping. It shouldn't be hard to figure out who they are, given that it is a product of my twisted imagination. It's not long… Just a couple of vignettes from the beginning of the game. Did it happen this way? Who knows, but I can dream. Right? 

**THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BED**

**Part I - Her Side**

She lay there in silence as sirens and the other noises of the night resounded outside her window. His side of the bed was empty, as was becoming more the norm lately. 

_'Another night on stakeout, honey.'_ Was what the message had said. Like it always said. 

She lay on her back, staring up at the shadows on the ceiling, remembering how the flickering shadows had scared her in her youth, but now they were her only night companions. 

She imagined him sitting in a darkened apartment, his lanky body splayed out over a chair turned backwards. It was the way he loved to sit given the chance. Casual and sexy all rolled up into one dangerous package. He'd have a cigarette dangling from his mouth and his hand would be holding his gun, one finger resting loosely on the trigger. He'd never had to tell her that was how it was when he was on these stakeouts. She just knew her husband that well. 

It hurt knowing what he did for a living, despite that he tried his hardest not to talk about it. He left work at work when he came home, but on lonely nights like this, it was hard to not remember that her husband, who had once been a mere Soldier was now a member of the ruthless organization known as the Turks. The dirty work that no one else was willing to do fell upon him and his partners. 

She got up from the bed and crossed towards the window, looking out over the artificial city, built meters above the ground, towering over the slums below. She spent her evenings down below the monstrosity that was the city in the sky, working in the bar that she'd owned for the last few years. She kept it for sentimental value; it had been the place where they'd met. Where, despite her feelings for the company he served, she'd fallen for that sexy crooked grin and the man he tried to hide deep inside. 

The diamond on her finger glittered in the moonlight coming in through the window as she pulled a piece of paper from the desk and wrote a short message on it. Things had changed. The world was changing. Her eyes had been opened to the evils happening all around her. She couldn't go on as things were without trying to change them. 

_'I'm sorry.'_ Were the only words on the message she left on his pillow. She would be gone when he returned. 

She hoped he'd understand. 


	2. Part II - His Side

**THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BED**

Part II - His Side 

Two weeks? Was that how long she'd been gone? He didn't know anymore, and the row of empty bottles on the counter no longer served as a decent calendar. 

He added another empty bottle to the long line of bottles already sitting on the counter and staggered to the empty bedroom. His suit jacket and pants were tossed carelessly on the floor, where they'd been tossed every night since she'd been gone. His wrinkled shirt soon followed until he was left in his boxers. He slid into the unmade bed, pulling the rumpled covers over his body. He'd long since given up smoking in bed. She'd nagged him forever that it was dangerous, and since old habits died hard, he still couldn't find it in him to light up. 

He leaned back against the pillows, his hands tucked behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, watching the patterns the shadows cast on the ceiling as the lights from outside danced around. As his fingers locked together behind his head, he felt the golden band that graced his finger. She'd insisted that he wear it, despite his protests that it would get in the way of his duties, first as a Soldier First Class and later as a Turk. But one look into those sad burgundy eyes, and he'd been a goner. He'd let them rip off his finger if it meant she was happy. 

He knew where she was. He knew everything. The bar. The terrorist group. Everything. She'd told him herself weeks ago about the new group of people that had been coming into the bar; the people who believed Shinra was killing the planet. She thought they were right. She'd left him because he didn't fit into their ideals. Did they even know he was her husband? He doubted it. Doubted they knew that the money for the bar they used as a hideout was funded by blood money of the very company they sought to destroy. That the young woman who fought with them was married to one of Shinra's killers. Happily married, or at least was until they walked into her life. 

They'd bombed first the Number One Reactor and then the Number Five. He still felt the sharp sting of failure as he remembered yesterday's events. He'd been outsmarted by that Ancient girl and that spiky-haired mercenary the terrorists had hired. 

Tomorrow was the day. The supports of the pillar were going down, bringing the upper plate crashing down. It was the sector where they'd met; where the terrorists now met and plotted. 

He rolled onto his side and wrapped his arms around her pillow, inhaling in the sweet scent of her that was permanently imbedded in the fabric. 

He hoped she got out in time.


End file.
